


Trust (N.)

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Bucky knows that tone, that please don’t lie to me voice that Bucky gives into every time, just like now, “I shot you.”</p><p>“We’ve been over this, Buck,” Steve says from beside him, not exasperated even though he should be, shifting to sit on the shower floor, “it wasn’t you and I forgive you.”</p><p>He says it like it’s easy. Like it’s the simplest thing in the world that once, a while ago, Bucky almost killed him, was going to kill him because that was his orders and he needed to execute them. That the only reason Bucky didn’t kill him was because of some grace of god made him remember, some words Steve said broke through conditioning and torture, and gave Bucky a glimpse of a skinny kid and a shared bed like sun through a cracked wall.</p><p>(Or: the one where Bucky sees the scars he left Steve.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust (N.)

**Author's Note:**

> For [Bucky-Laufeyson](http://bucky-laufeyson.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, they prompted:  
>  _Headcanon that when bucky and Steve first get together (post ws), when Steve gets undressed, Bucky sees the faint scars from when he shot Steve on the helicarrier and Bucky just breaks down because he caused this pain to Steve and then Steve comforts him and then they make love rather than have sex and it's all sweet and fluffy_
> 
> Sorry this doesn't exactly match up to your prompt/headcanon but I couldn't find anywhere to fit the porn in.
> 
> Thank you to [Gina](http://stevebuck.tk/) for looking this over!
> 
> Unbeat'd, all mistakes are my own.

They’re dating but still sleeping in separate rooms, at times when the night’s too dark and Bucky’s too awake he’ll crawl into Steve’s bed. Steve- ever loving Steve- doesn’t ask about the nightmare, doesn’t question why he’s in his bed or why he can’t seem to sleep in his own for more than one night, just pulls him into his arms and presses his nose into his hair. Deep breaths calming Bucky’s fluttering heart, warm hands on his clothed back rubbing circles into his skin making Bucky’s eyes droop, and the sound of Steve’s slowly beating heart cooing him to sleep like a lullaby. In the morning, when Bucky wakes up at some ungodly hour, when Steve opens his eyes only to look into Bucky’s and smile, he doesn’t ask what happened. Steve just kisses his nose and asks what he wants for breakfast, despite the fact that it’s too early, despite the fact that Bucky’s nightmare was so bad he sweated through his shirt, despite the fact that he’s an almost-monster laying in the bed of an almost-saint. 

They’re taking it slow and they’ve only gotten as far as sleepy makeouts on the couch. It’s late at night when it _does_ happen. Sometimes it’s him on a mission coming home late, sometimes it’s Steve, but either way it still happens, and either way Bucky knows it’s not because it’s late at night and they’re both tired, but because both of them actually want this, both of them feel this. Sometimes he’s the one sitting on their couch, watching whatever catches his attention- usually bad reality shows because he’s still a sucker for gossip- until Steve gets home because he never sleeps at night when Steve’s on a mission. He always rides the nights out, wide awake, because things always go bump and he’s there to soothe them- he’s there _now_ to soothe them- and when the sun breaks he’ll go sleep in the communal living room because someone’s awake and he trusts the rest of Steve’s- his now, too, but he’s waiting for that to be taken away- team to protect him if something happens to go bump in the morning. But them, him and Steve, they wait up for each other. They don’t sleep on nights when they know the other’s due back, just like before when he’d take odd jobs or Steve would take late night classes at the local college. 

These nights are special. They’re filled with reuniting, with one of them making sure the other’s mentally as well as physically okay, they’re filled with sleepy smiles and sleepier kisses. It goes like this: Steve gets home, go-bag in his hand, SHIELD provided sweats and shirt on his body, a smile on his face. Bucky gets up from the couch, gives him a once over, nothing sexual, purely to make sure Steve’s as okay as he wants him to think, before stepping into his face. They greet each other, usually quiet greetings that are more whisper than anything, usually meeting eyes, blue on blue. Then hands come into play, Steve’s bag is dropped on the floor, his hands rest lightly on Bucky’s waist- warm, alive, well- and Bucky will bring one up to Steve’s cheek- usually his biological hand, only warmth for Steve’s skin- and rests the other on his chest over his heart. One of them will lean in, just the press of lips to lips, eyes closed, breathing each other in, a silent _thank god you’re still home_ and _thank god you’re still alive_ traded with their still lips. Then they pull away- despite both of their unwant- and settle on the couch. One of them ends up in the other’s lap, this time it’s Steve, and their kisses become less about both of them being alive, and more about them filling a desire. It’s hot and heady, it’s wet with tongues, it’s rough with teeth, it’s so fucking perfect Bucky always questions why they don’t do this more often. It never falls over that line of makeout to foreplay. Hands never drift up under clothes, hands never pull at clothes. It’s perfect. That line never gets crossed, they always pull away with matching blushes and hard ons, and Steve gets up from the couch- both of them pointedly ignoring their hard ons- to go shower.

But today, tonight, it’s different.

They both were sent on a mission to protect the city once again. Instead of it being a mastermind or some idiot with robot minions, it was a lake monster that decided to make an appearance. The nasty thing wasn’t hard to beat, it was more like a blob of trash without a brain, but when they did get the kill shot- thanks, Clint- with Steve and Bucky underneath it, the damn thing threw up on them. It was slimy, stunk like garbage on a hot summer day, and coated them from head to toe. AKA: It wasn’t pretty and they were almost not given a ride back to the Tower ‘cause they smelled so bad. Thankfully, though, Tony found some part of his heart that actually felt bad for them and let them take a seat with the cargo before herding them into a communal shower when they got to the Tower.

Bucky’s watching Steve out of the corner of his eye as he stands, fully suited up, under the hot shower spray and only averts his eyes when Steve starts undoing the zippers and buttons, going back to his own uniform. The shower water’s soaking his clothes and matting his hair, it’s nice and warm, but he’s on edge. He’s never seen Steve naked before in this generation, he hasn’t had his privilege. He keeps his eyes on himself, letting the spray wash away the stink and gunk from the throw up, part of his uniform on the floor- it’s ruined, he’s going to have to ask for a new one- until he gives in and looks over at Steve. 

And that’s when he sees them. 

See, he’s never seen Steve naked or shirtless. When he says they’re taking it slow- makeouts aside- he means they’re taking it _slow_. Neither of them walk around their floor shirtless, neither of them shower with the the door open or change out of their clothes within eye view. They just don’t. So this, the closeness and naked skin in the shower, this is new. The reason he’s on edge, it’s valid. And those scars, they’re new to Bucky’s eyes.

Steve’s back is to him, he’s bending over to yank his boots off, one hand on the shower wall to balance himself, the other pulling at the brown leather. A few inches too close to his spine there’s a pink and puckered scar, circular- like the bullet he shot into him close to two years ago. Below his ass, on his thigh, there’s a matching one, and Bucky _can’t_.

He brings his hands up the wall in front of him to catch his fall as he goes forward. Memories of the fight flood his brain. Of the blood, of the noise of the helicarrier breaking apart, of the sight of Steve falling into the river when it should have been him. When he should have been the one to sink into the murky water, polluted with runoff and breaking ships. He remembers jumping in after him, pulling him onto the shore and leaving without a trace- not even boot prints on the mud- walking away from Steve because he knew him but didn’t know him but also knew he couldn’t hurt him. Most of all, _most of all_ , he remembers the pull of his trigger. The sound of bullets leaving the chamber, the sound of Steve gasping at each bullet that hit the mark, the smell of the powder, and thoughts of completing his mission. 

He remembers it all, he remembers being a monster. And, yeah, he’s not the same guy he was before, but he’s still some of that guy. He’s still some of that lifeless body that was nothing more than a vessel for HYDRA to fill with false knowledge and something like hope that he was doing good, that he was making a change for the better. He’s still that _thing_ please don’t lie to me voice that Bucky gives into every time, just like now, “I shot you.”

“We’ve been over this, Buck,” Steve says from beside him, not exasperated even though he should be, shifting to sit on the shower floor, “it wasn’t you and I forgive you.”

He says it like it’s easy. Like it’s the simplest thing in the world that once, a while ago, Bucky almost killed him, was _going_ to kill him because that was his orders and he needed to execute them. That the only reason Bucky didn’t kill him was because of some grace of god made him remember, some words Steve said broke through conditioning and torture, and gave Bucky a glimpse of a skinny kid and a shared bed like sun through a cracked wall. 

“I left you with scars,” he flicks his eyes to Steve’s stomach, the stomach he hasn’t seen since the war, the stomach that was once abless and small and rose and fell shakily in Steve’s sleep. The stomach that now has a bullet wound that for some reason wasn’t healed over by Steve’s serum.

Steve’s quiet for a moment, the water and their breathing fills up the spaces of silence, then he speaks, “I let you fall and let them give you more than scars- I let them give you both physical and mental scars,” he places a hand over Bucky’s metal arm and Bucky doesn’t flinch, “You don’t hold that against me, I don’t hold this,” he motions to the scars with his other hand, “against you.”

Bucky finally moves away from the wall, hands at his sides, knees pressing into the shower floor. He looks at the scar on Steve’s stomach and presses a finger just above it before looking up at Steve, “I could never _ever_ blame you for that, never, Steve.”

Steve places his hand over Bucky’s, clutches it to his chest, “And I don’t blame you for this, okay?”

Bucky nods, “Okay,” It’s a white flag, a surrender. He’s too tired, to _done_ to argue this right now. To argue this thing that they seem to go over once every two weeks. He doesn’t quite not blame himself, he doesn’t forgive what he did, but Steve does. Steve doesn’t blame him, Steve doesn’t think he’s a monster that hides under the bed at night, Steve sees something in him. Some light, maybe, something brighter than the blood coating his soul. And maybe, just maybe, Bucky should think that way too.

They finish showering, both of them standing a little bit closer, until they finally wash the stink away and leave to their floor in fresh sweats and shirts.

* * *

* * *

Bucky hesitates at his bedroom door, “Steve?”

Steve turns around from where he is in the hallway, close to his door, “Yeah, Buck?” 

Bucky looks at his feet before looking up to Steve, “Can I sleep with you tonight?” He never asks, always just crawls into the empty space Steve leaves for him on the right side. But tonight, tonight it’s different. He feels like they’ve crossed a line- a good line- he feels clean, like something, some weight that he can’t place was lifted off his shoulders in that shower and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t forgive himself, he doesn’t trust himself, but Steve trusts him, _Steve trusts him_ and that might be enough. 

“Of course,” Steve holds out a hand and Bucky crosses the short hallway to take it. The hand’s warm under his own and Steve’s small smile feels the same. 

They’re quiet as they get ready for bed, hands unfortunately parted but there’s a connection between them that’s stronger than any hand-holding could be. 

Bucky crawls in next to Steve and rests his head on his chest, hand over where the bullet scar is, “You trust me,” he says, it’s not a question but at the same time he needs to know.

“I do,” Steve replies, arms wrapped around Bucky.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers, _thank you for trusting me, thank you for saving me, thank you for loving me_.

“No,” Steve says, holding him a little bit tighter, “thank you.” _thank you for letting me in, thank you for giving me the chance to save you, thank you for letting me love you_.

Bucky closes his eyes, head resting over Steve’s heart, and settles in. He feels lighter, he feels better about himself, and that light shining through the cracked wall is shining a little brighter. 

One day, he’ll trust himself as much as Steve trusts him. But right now, in this moment, Steve’s trust is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr!](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblogable post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/138936531230/headcanon-that-when-bucky-and-steve-first-get)


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